


What a Reality

by SBK



Category: Daiya no Ace, ace of diamond
Genre: Bad Ending, Eijun is a pretty boy, F/M, Fluff, Kuramochi and Miyuki both have a mutual crush, M/M, Multi, Oblivious, Pining, Unrequited Love, but fluffy, discussion of boners, just more like Sawamura doesn’t know that he’s being felt up kind of situations, kinda cute, slight nsfw, slightly non con but not really non con, tw underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25524586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBK/pseuds/SBK
Summary: Sawamura Eijun, he’s too pretty to be real - muse both Kuramochi and Miyuki. They decide to have a friendly conversation, though never said out loud - who can win Sawamura first?
Relationships: Kuramochi Youichi/Sawamura Eijun, Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun, Sawamura Eijun/Yoshikawa Haruno, kuramochi Youichi/Miyuki Kazuya implied
Comments: 13
Kudos: 36





	What a Reality

He was pretty. That was the one thought Kuramochi and Kazuya shared, sitting on the baseball field, sweat slicking their skin from the previous practice. The sun, in all its abundant glory, cast shades of orange, purple, and pink across their bodies and the fields. Behind them stretched long shadows, in front of them on the horizon was none other than Sawamura Eijun. His eyes glistened like the sun, fluttering with emotions too quick to name, flickering faster than they could keep up with. 

Both of them couldn’t help the thundering rage of their hearts pounding against their weak, fragile ribs - it was as if their hearts were actively trying to kill them with no mercy. They both, instinctively knew, that they had hard crushes on their pitcher. The way he bristled at compliments, the way he fussed at insults - he was the perfect candidate for the both of them. Sawamura Eijun was simple and easy, and he smelled like tangerines in the wind - and the two of them, they were helpless in over their heads. 

They had a silent rivalry, Kazuya and Youichi, both unable to actually  _ voice  _ how they felt, but with occasional challenging remarks and conversations, they both knew they were going to have to fight each other. 

Youichi had taken a hands on approach, slinging his arm over the southpaw’s shoulders more time than not. Youichi would complement the pitcher in an off handed way, but the vermillion red color that would quickly rush over the entirety of Sawamura Eijun was such a drive. 

Kazuya did not like it, and he made this blatantly known by the way he cast Youichi a tense glare. How if Sawamura had already seated himself beside his roommate, Kazuya would quickly worm his way in between them. He would profess, it was quite out of character and very petty of the catcher to behave in such a way - but something about supple tan skin, long brown eyelashes that kissed rounded cheeks - freckles dancing below his honey eyes - Kazuya could not refuse. He could not refuse the pitcher made from the specks of stars and the hearts forged from molten gold. 

Youichi had felt the same way. 

Kazuya has taken to agreeing to catch the southpaw’s pitches more often, but still he couldn’t allow his precious little pitcher to hurt himself - and together alone, Kazuya would get too close. Let his fingers linger too long on Sawamura’s wrist, let his lips get too close to the nape of the boy’s neck, let his nose inch closer to fluffy brown locks. 

But he would never close the distance, he would never allow his pink lips to meet another pair - especially not Sawamura’s. He was bold on the field, but when it came to these fresh romantic moments, Kazuya was at a loss for what to do. So he’d release the boy’s wrist and head across from him, mitt at the ready. 

Youichi would be similar in his approach. 

Youichi would take it upon himself to wrestle the younger into submission more times than not, and he too could not keep himself at bay. Sometimes his nails dug a little too harshly into Sawamura’s wrists, just to see the other make a face and hiss slightly - those would fuel his sick imagination for later. Sometimes Youichi would accidentally  _ grind  _ a little against his junior, not really thinking about it until after it happened, and this would cause a frenzy of heat to overtake him. Youichi by no means had ever been the most… well, careful with his acts - he had always been a rambunctious child, fueled by spite and evil intentions - but now that he had baseball he settled. 

Now that he had Sawamura pinned by his wrists below him, on that ugly shaggy green carpet, highlighted by the fighting game they were just playing, Youichi wasn’t sure if he could contain himself. Before he even realized what he was doing, he was taking his thumb and swiping it along Sawamura’s plump, pink bottom lip, pressing down slightly to open Sawamura’s mouth and show off pearly white teeth with a yellow and blue tint thanks to the television to the right. 

Youichi would loosen his grip slightly on the southpaw’s wrist, leaning down as if about to claim his prize, and Sawamura would be so blissfully unaware of what was going on, so idiotic that he would stop Youichi before the shortstop could even make contact. 

“Let me go, I yield I yield!” His free hand tapping against the ground with repeated thumps, Sawamura would succeed in quelling a beast without even realizing, and Youichi would just cackle a  _ Kyahaha!  _ Before shuffling up to his feet and turning the game off, hitting the power button and flicking the television off, sending the two of them into a familiar darkness that they shared every night. 

“Did you have to turn it off so fast? I can’t see…” Sawamura would whine, helplessly feeling his way into his bed. The mattress would groan with the new added pressure, and Youichi would swallow down his arousal, trying to ignore the throbbing in his boxers, clambering to the top bunk as fast as he could and not bothering with a reply, rolling over to face the wall. His cheeks would be stained wine colored, and he’d have to do everything he could to forget how beautiful Sawamura appeared below him, bathed in blue. 

It was rare that Youichi wouldn’t pester Sawamura into returning to their  _ own  _ dorm room, but supposedly the shortstop had been a little pent up, because he left with the first round of folks that abandoned their captain’s room. This left Kazuya and Sawamura alone, in a room already dark. The southpaw snoring noisily on the ground, and Kazuya wasn’t sure if what he was doing would be considered creepy or not. He carefully brought a finger to brush locks of brown from an all too soft face, he would lean forward - lips so close to connecting. 

Slap!

Kazuya had slapped himself, hard, cheek red and stinging with a vengeance. 

“Sawamoron.” The catcher pretended to be annoyed, shaking the other awake. “If you’re going to sleep in my room, at least use one of the bunks so you don’t catch a cold. I use the bottom bunk here.” Kazuya pointed to his usual bed, the sheets were messed up, clearly the catcher didn’t take to making his bed today. 

The pitcher in a sleepy daze, would without much thought, flop down onto the bed in which Kazuya had just informed him was not for grabs. Kazuya felt his eye twitch, the nerve of this kid ceased to amaze him. 

Still, he had informed the southpaw that was  _ his  _ bed, and if the moron was just going to take it, Kazuya wasn’t going to hand it over. After changing his clothes into a pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt, he would soon join the pitcher in bed.

He’d wake up smelling the scent of summer mixed with a slightly sweet but mainly sour smell of tangerines in the wind - 

Brown hair was pressed into his nose, a body was rigid against his own, snoring softly. Kazuya noticed he had an arm slung over the pitcher’s waist, and his crotch pushed right into the junior’s ass - and god, was Kazuya sporting the worst case of morning wood - so he flung himself out of bed and that motion would startle the pitcher awake. 

  
  


—-

They should have seen this coming in retrospect. Sawamura Eijun was a pretty boy, with brown hair and fire for eyes, of course he’d be straight right? It didn’t make it any less painful to Youichi or Kazuya. They stared idly as Sawamura pressed his lips to one of the manager’s. She had ginger hair that fell just above her shoulder, a soft pale hand against the boy’s cheek. Her name was Yoshikawa Haruno, apparently she had just cut her hair. There was a pink letter tucked between Sawamura’s fingers as they passionately shared a kiss next to the vending machine. 

Youichi nor Kazuya said a thing about this, in fact they just pretended not to see it all together. They continued on, there was no heart shattering realization - just harsh reality and truth. There was no tugging emotion, just the sensation of longing and slight jealousy. Youichi distanced himself, as did Kazuya, and the two of them found a sort of solace in each other. They both had lost the battle, the battle between them that ended with a pretty girl with soft skin layered with freckles that reminded the two of them of constellations. 

But they continued on with their lives, they played baseball, they cast longing gazes at a receding back with the number  _ 18  _ plastered on it - the number of their affections, and the number of their shortcomings. 

So Kazuya and Youichi failed, and found comfort in sharing lunches together and discussing nothing but what was familiar - baseball. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ty


End file.
